


this is the first (year I get to love you)

by beepbedeep



Category: Let It Snow (2019)
Genre: F/F, a year in the life!, and nice to each other, basically twelve snapshots of them being cute, girls! we love girls!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: (they never break up, not really, just keep on growing together.)
Relationships: Dorrie/Kerry (Let it Snow)
Kudos: 6





	this is the first (year I get to love you)

Kerry, shouting from the top of a hill, arms flung down towards Dorrie, face turned directly into the sun. Her eyes are scrunched shut, but Dorrie can see joy dancing across her face, feels it mirrored on her own. Snow crunches under her feet as she races up the hill to where Kerry is standing, a flock of birds wind their way overhead, and Kerry opens her eyes the smallest bit to follow their motion. She squeals and jumps away when Dorrie slides her freezing hands underneath her warm jacket, only a layer of fabric away from bare skin and when they still from their don’t-you-DARE-put-those-icicles-you-call-fingers-on-my-stomach tussle, their laughter echoes off the trees. It’s January, the air is crisp and frozen, and they aren’t dating yet, but by the end of the day they will be and from the top of their minuscule mountain the world feels limitless.

Dorrie, blushing all the way down her neck, because candygrams aren’t really a thing anymore, except for their tiny town, and Kerry (under a laundry list of pseudonyms) has sent her seven already, and fourth period hasn’t even started yet. (of course, she’s been tucking paper hearts into Kerry’s bags and shoes and jacket pockets for the past fourteen days, but Kerry has no interest in restraint or the long game) She waits by Kerry’s locker at the end of the day (because she stores stuff in their for practice), kisses her with promises to pick her up in an hour, and runs away before Kerry has a chance to open her locker and send approximately fifty more paper hearts cascading out of it. It is February, still cold and Dorrie’s new favorite hat has cat ears on top so Kerry spends the month stealing it from her at least once a day and this Valentine’s Day the night sky is soft and dark and Dorrie thinks about Kerry’s eyes whenever she looks up. 

Kerry, shaping giant balls of snow in bright blue mittens, throwing them near-but-not-at-Dorrie (because she is too nice to actually hit her girlfriend) because it is _still snowing_ and sometimes they’re bored of it, but on days like today when Kerry shows up outside of Dorrie’s house as soon as it’s light and pulls her out into the freshly powdery snow it still feels pretty magical. After all the fingers they possess are sufficiently frozen they’ll go back inside, still in pajamas and eat a potentially excessive amount of marshmallows (seasonally appropriate!) while they deliberate the pros and cons of various colleges (not that they’re planning where to go _because_ of each other, just _with_ each other) and Dorrie will probably throw a marshmallow at Kerry’s nose whenever their decision making feels like it’s getting too intense and when Kerry looks up at her attacker she will be distracted, for at least ten seconds, by Dorrie’s freckles and how much she wants to _reach out and touch them_. It’s March, the future is getting closer by the day, but it is not here yet and they are still blanketed in _how things have always been_ and besides, they are not alone so it is hard to be too scared. 

Dorrie, groaning, dropping her head down onto her AP chem textbook, trying to absorb the information through osmosis because this reading this isn’t really working right now. She’s at school, trying to finish this chapter in time for a lab that’s happening in HALF AN HOUR and the world momentarily seems bleak. Before she can look up, cinnamon fills her nose and Kerry is sitting down beside her, sliding off her backpack and tracing her fingers up Dorrie’s spine at the same time. She hands her girlfriend lunch, the lunch she hasn’t had because of this assignment and Dorrie looks up with enough gratitude (need) that Kerry feels butterflies spinning throughout her body. She kisses Dorrie’s nose, light and fast before Dorrie pulls her into a _real_ kiss and yeah, Kerry isn’t really going to miss high school, but she WILL miss this. Kerry rubs small circles into Dorrie’s back as she finishes the chapter (reading it this time) and they get an extra five minutes together of walking because both their next classes are in the same direction. It is April, most of the snow has turned into mud with the occasionally icy patch, the flowers are staring t make an appearance, and they hold hands all the way to fourth period. 

Kerry, glittering, twirls around in faster and faster circles, tottering on her heels when her skirt finally swishes to a stop. Dorrie can’t tear her eyes away from this beautiful create who is somehow her prom date, who is almost aggressively sparkly, who has stopped moving and is smiling at _her_ like _she’s_ the most dazzling thing in the room. Addie shows up a little later, Julia in tow. (Julia whose boyfriend is still on tour, except for the fact that he and Addie have been conspiring for months to surprise her tonight when he magically floats down from the ceiling or something) Parents fuss, pictures are taken, and the night goes from there. At the dance Kerry tucks herself firmly under Dorrie’s arm, except for all the times she runs away to hug a friend or pull Dorrie onto the dance floor. When Kerry is not there Addie is and most of the time they are all there together and it’s a much better night than freshman-Dorrie would have ever expected. It is May and the flowers are in full bloom, the air outside is warm and the group spends most of their night clinging to each other, jumping in time to the music, and giggling. (later Dorrie will slide Kerry’s dress off her shoulders and kiss down her stomach and their laughter blankets the room and it’s all so disgustingly cliché but Kerry’s mouth is soft and Dorrie’s hands are warm and it’s really a _very good night_.)

Dorrie, beaming, flings off her cap with triumph written across her face. (Kerry, if she’s being honest, throws hers off a few beats too late, caught up in Dorrie’s brilliance because they’ve officially been dating for six months and she still gets distracted at inopportune times by the _feeling_ that is so often written across her girlfriend’s face) Around them, caps fall to the ground and cheers fill the air, relief and joy and a little bit of now-what all tinging the atmosphere. Being arranged by alphabetical order means that no one is really by their best friends, but everyone knows each other so it’s really ok. From across the field, Dorrie waves, making something in Kerry’s chest tug (a now familiar sensation) before Addie tackles her in a giant screaming hug. Kerry can see her sister and parents waving excitedly (her mom’s eyes shine with pride) and she dodges Tobin dipping Angie back into some kind of rom-com kiss on her way to greet them. She hugs them and squeals with her sister, memorizing the moment. When she turns around Dorrie is there, her hair is down and curly and the sun shining down turns the flyaways into a halo. Kerry throws herself around Dorrie and it’s highly possible that she will never let go. It’s June and the sun is _hot_ and when graduation is over Keon throws his best party yet and Kerry winds her hands through Dorrie’s silky, soft hair, shutting her eyes against the thought of any of this changing. 

Kerry, skimming her hand through the water, on her knees at the edge of the (surprisingly cold) lake that everyone congregates to in the summer. Her hair is pulled up because she _hates_ the tips being wet and sticking to her back, her shoulders are just a little sunburned because she _loves_ a specific kind of not-really-waterproof sunscreen that her mom used when she and her sister were little and she is staring at the ripples in the water because she is _fascinated_ by the way every motion effects something else. (Dorrie knows all this because they have spent a large part of their summer like this, reading or napping or whispering or swimming at the lake’s edge, but mostly just being together however they can, and she’s had time to memorize a thousand new facts about this maybe-a-mermaid person.) (Kerry does not do things by halves, and neither does Dorrie which has gotten them into trouble but mostly is amazing.) Dorrie swims up to the shore and takes a handful of water, sprinkling it on Kerry’s back (careful to avoid any ponytailed-hair) she jumps back, laughing, and closes her eyes to the coolness of the lake. Before Dorrie can slide away Kerry has leapt into the water with her, splashing them both. It’s July, everything is hot and muggy, the surrounding farms are full of giant happy looking plants, and there’s just enough breeze by the lake for Dorrie to relax, floating without paddling, her attention stolen by Kerry’s fingers trailing across her arm. 

Dorrie, leaning as far as humanly possible over the Waffle Town front counter, head almost bumping Kerry’s, who is sitting on her knees at the other side. The late-summer crowd is fairly standard, a mix of families with little kids and groups of teenagers and some adults, all off in their own separate worlds, relaxed in the air conditioning. Dorrie’s clocked a lot of hours working this summer, saving up for college and honestly trying to soak up the last bit of unique Waffle Town-ness she can, so Kerry and Addie have made it their personal mission to make sure she doesn’t get lonely. (not that she ever would, because Billy and Keon are good company, she likes hearing about Keon’s next big plan and whatever weird book Billy’s currently reading) Addie comes in like a whirlwind, talking a mile a minute about every single thought that’s whipping through her brain, showing off a complicated set of things on her phone, and filling the room with her chatter and energy. Kerry makes just as much of an impression, but in a way that makes Dorrie feel like the whole room is just them, staring at each other across the counter. Kerry brings books and reads them in the booths, lying on her stomach, she plays music for Dorrie to review from new routines they’re considering and describes movies she wants to see or what happened during the most recent summer practice or buys her sister waffle themed food and sits out back on breaks to paint their toenails matching colors (they are in the middle of a challenge to see how outrageous the waffle shapes Dorrie makes can get) and is just _there_ , spinning on a bench or spread across a booth or detailing particular juicy piece of gossip in the kitchen. It’s August, the sun is still blazing and the novelty has worn off, so spending time inside Waffle Town isn’t a bad thing, and with a rotating set of friends starring Addie and Kerry always cycling through, it has never felt more like home. Kerry’s favorite thing to do is close up, she likes the ritual of it, so when Dorrie closes Kerry brings her new favorite songs, blasts them through the entirety of WT, pulling Dorrie up against her, and that is a good way to spend the summer, dancing in the half-light of an early summer night in a clean air conditioned room and taking over an hour to walk home afterwards (even though it maybe takes fifteen minutes distance-wise) because the girl at your side is so wonderfully distracting. 

Kerry, hugging Dorrie as tightly as humanly possible, arms almost cutting off her circulation in an attempt to eliminate all space between them. Kerry shuts her eyes as tightly as possible, Dorrie’s hair tickling her nose, trying to memorize the moment. When she leans back, finally, her breath catches in her throat because Dorrie is _beautiful_ (always), her hair is lit up by the (very) late summer sun and it looks like living, shining fire is wound into the strands. On the street a car honks and Dorrie’s dad waves out the window, Dorrie rolls her eyes, smiling, and _Kerry is going to miss this so much_. It’s honestly rude of Dorrie’s school to start a whole week before hers, in an entirely different state, but Dorrie (sweet, wonderful, mind-reading Dorrie) sees her face begin to crumple and runs her fingers up Kerry’s ribs (ticking but not), reminding her that they are going to be so close and it is true, because without really meaning to they have ended up at schools in the same state, Kerry in Manhattan and Dorrie just half an hour’s drive outside of the city, and things are changing, but they are not losing each other, or anything really, just gaining newness (at least that is what they try to say, hoping that it will start to sound true, because no one really knows what is going to happen and nothing can be controlled but _maybe everything is going to be ok_.) Dorrie’s dad honks again, because he has never missed a flight in his life, and no child of his is going to start now and Dorrie throws herself into Kerry again, whispering things like _see you so, so soon_ and _I’ll text you like, constantly_ and _I love you_ and Kerry murmurs all the things back and then Dorrie leans down to kiss her, soft and sweet (nothing like last night which was more _desperation_ and _don’t forget me_ ) and they each pick up one of the bags to put in the trunk. It is September, the leaves have not yet begun to turn, snickering about _no it isn’t over yet_ and the playgrounds aren’t empty yet because the kids still have a week before back-to-school, Dorrie drives away and Kerry watches the whole time.

Dorrie, shivering in the newly crisp New York air, Kerry’s arm looped in hers, laughing about mundane things as they traverse Central Park (which, with all due respect, is _barely_ a park, and when Kerry comes up to visit Dorrie all she wants to do is go on long walks and look at giant trees and feel the wildness that clusters of buildings and millions of people can’t quite recreate.) Kerry is warm against her side and she is talking about one of her professors, face alight, and Dorrie marvels at the fact that yes, they are in what could be considered different worlds, but it doesn’t feel like that _at all_ , she feels just as familiar with Kerry’s life as her own and that yeah, she’s having fun, a lot of fun, and learning and probably growing and all those college things, but seeing Kerry is still the best part of her week, still feels new and exciting and limitless. A squirrel crawls on a branch above them, sending acorns down, Kerry pulls her out of the hail, and they end up nose to nose, grinning until Kerry’s lips meet hers and their mouths are busy doing something different. It’s October, the wind is beginning to bite, the trees are lit up in brilliant red/orange displays, and every kid knows what they’re going to be for Halloween. They could be thinking about breaking up, Dorrie knows this, they’ve even talked about it, but, as Kerry smiles against her mouth, there just doesn’t seem to be a need to. The wind whips around them again, and Dorrie slides her cold hands against Kerry’s stomach, Kerry who has nestled into Dorrie’s coat, and _everything feels good_.  
Kerry, kicking her legs gently in the air, laying across Dorrie’s dorm-room-bed. She’s staring at the ceiling, tracking cracks in the white paint, while Dorrie tries to focus on an outline she needs to finish, but mostly looking at Kerry, her hair spread over the pink comforter like smoke. Kerry looks over, catches her eye, and smiles with her teeth. She tilts her head and Dorrie, without consciously thinking about it, forgets about her assignment and flops onto the bed too, Kerry’s body rolling into hers. Dorrie turns on her side and their foreheads bump, Kerry leans even further forwards and then they’re kissing, Kerry pulling herself up so she’s straddling Dorrie’s hips and they spend half an hour like that, making out for fun, because this is _college_ , even if Kerry doesn’t technically go here, and they aren’t gonna waste this weekend. (later, Kerry traces her fingers across Dorrie’s back and hums random songs when she actually has to finish the outline.) It’s November, officially cold and bordering on gloomy, everyone is pulling out their puffy winter coats and baking (aka not cleaning communal kitchen spaces), and Thanksgiving break is only a week away which means _together_ and _family_ and _home_ again but with Kerry’s head on her stomach as she works her way through a LONG chapter in her psych textbook, Dorrie doesn’t feel like _home_ ever left.

Dorrie, standing on her porch with a cold-red nose, stamping her feet to stay warm, and Kerry has never seen anything more beautiful. She’s about to pull her girlfriend into the warmth of her house, complete with her sister and sister’s friend cackling in the bathroom about something, but Dorrie is smiling a secret, excited kind of smile so Kerry extends her hand and lets Dorrie lead her off the porch and through the front yard to the sidewalk. Around them, all the houses have lit up windows, and the streetlights have just turned on, so even though it’s fully night, there is a soft glow dusting everything around them. It radiates off Dorrie’s cheeks, making her look lit from within, (which is not an illusion, because Dorrie is always radiant) and around them everything is quiet. There aren’t even cars driving, everything is soft and silent except for the sounds of their breath and a faint calm rustle in the air and Kerry reaches out to dust snow off of Dorrie’s nose and _oh_. Snow off Dorrie’s nose. _It’s snowing._ Kerry twirls around, taking in the sight of the first falling flakes, feeling Dorrie’s eyes on her, and when she finishes the rotation, Dorrie grins. _This night last year is when we met._ Pause. _The sky is celebrating with us._ (maybe it’s a cliché thing to say, but it’s snowing and something feels like fate. Magic.) It’s December, the snow is just beginning to fall, everything will be blanketed in perfection, at last for a little bit, in a few hours and Kerry thinks about how, with Dorrie, every day kind of feels like it’s blanketed in snow. She breathes in a distinctly vanilla, _Dorrie_ smell and smiles and the snow glistens and they kiss in the middle of the street and _it is perfect_. 

(they never separate, not really, just keep on growing together.)


End file.
